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Broke Wife, Big City
It's the end of the
world as the Mayans know it
By Aprill Brandon
Even though technically I'm writing this before the supposed end of the
world on Dec. 21, I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that we
didn't all meet our fiery doom simply because the Mayans got lazy with
their math homework. And if I'm wrong, well, pffft... what are you
going to do about it? Judge me? Shove it in my face? You're freaking
dead.
But even though this prophecy is complete bunk (unless, again, I'm
wrong, in which case, who cares because I doubt there is an Internet
comment section in the afterlife... unless you end up in Hell where you
are forced to read "c0mn3ntz buY peepz wh00 truely h8 da Englesh
langwuid" all day), it does have the interesting effect of making one
reflect back on their life. This is also amplified by the fact that we
are staring straight into a bright, shiny new year, which always casts
a magical spell on us and makes us promise to do things we actually
never, ever intend to do.
So, with this in mind, I've been wondering how my life has stacked up
so far.
Childhood? Happy. Or, at least as happy as any childhood can be in a
world where wearing floral leggings in fourth grade will get you the
nickname "Petunia Butt." And, sure, I still had to deal with bullies
and insecurities and childhood fears (I'm still convinced those troll
dolls from the '80s come alive at night) and boo-boos and
disappointments (ahem...Kent Blackford likes me but doesn't "like" me
like me) and that horrible process of trying to figure out your place
in the world. But at the end of the day, I always knew I was loved.
Adolescence? Ugh. Let's just say it was the best of times, it was the
worst of times. Or better yet, if we take out the years 13 through 15
(and any and all photos taken during that period), it was actually
pretty good. Although there was some pretty awful poetry produced in
the remaining years.
College? Two degrees. No STDs. Sixty percent of memories still
retained. So, overall, successful.
Career? Currently not where I want to be. I mean, I never really
achieved my 7-year-old self's dream of being a model-doctor-marine
biologist-author-female Indiana Jones. But I did become a writer and a
journalist, my 15-year-old self's dream. I've seen my byline in
multiple newspapers, won some awards and was once told by an elderly
woman that I was funnier than Carol Burnett, which, let's be honest, is
by far the best compliment one can receive. I even achieved my goal of
becoming a paid photographer, my 25-year-old self's dream. Sure, I
still haven't written that book that is destined to make me rich (or at
least get me out of the Ramen Noodles brackett of the middle class) or
become syndicated yet, but the fact that I often write currently for
publications for free proves that I really am doing what I love.
Love life and other grown-up relationships? My husband tells me I'm
beautiful when I just woke up and resemble Wednesday Addams (both in
looks and attitude), my family supports me to an embarrassing degree,
my in-laws are straight out of some magical Hallmark Christmas movie
and my friends, both life-long and recent and everything in-between,
are the new, improved Alonguin Round Table.
Hmm... somehow I thought this column would be more cynical. But as it
turns out, when you reflect on your life, somehow the good always
outshines the bad. Which leads us to the most important question of all:
What would I do if I knew in advance it was my very last day on Earth
and that I would shortly be forced to read the worst, most ignorant
comments the Internet has to offer for the rest of eternity?
Nothing.
Or more specifically, the same thing I can be found doing on any
average Saturday. Cooking breakfast with my husband, yelling at the
dog, talking to my mom and cousin on the phone, heading into the city
and stopping for a beer at some dive bar and at the end of the day,
writing it all down.
Because it's in the every day that the magic of life lives.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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